


Mornin'

by Kuripuri



Series: Fallout4OC Charlie [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Body Image, Body Positivity, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Romantic Tension, Self Confidence Issues, alcohol mention, fat OC, self-deprication, slight angst, surprise cuddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuripuri/pseuds/Kuripuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie gets drunk at her birthday party and decides to sleep it off in Hancocks room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornin'

Charlie liked to imagine herself as a sensible woman. Logical and calculating and always with control over her actions. But after her first birthday in the commonwealth and a long night of drinking with her friends, her guard might've dropped just a little bit. At first she had been reserved and hellbent on not getting drunk off her ass, but as the night went on and with mixed feelings about her first birthday in the apocalypse, the alcohol had flowed and she had recieved it. It wasn't until she felt her eyes dry out faster and her eyelids wanted to stay closed that she made the only smart decision that night to go to bed.

She excused herself and begun to make her way to her own private abode but barely halfway across the road her feet began to make their own way towards Hancocks house and despite the last rational sense in her body wildly protesting, her want outweighed her smart and she found herself outside his door. Hancock was still in the commonhouse drinking everyone else under the table and she knew that the house had to be empty. She pretended for half a second to weigh the pros and cons of entering his private home but it had been decided ever since she tasted alcohol on her lips that night that her control was out the window and the child within her had the power. The door opened with a small creak and she silently slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

  
The room was dark, the only light being the moonlight glowing through the cracks in the walls, but Hancock was surprisingly tidy and moving around without stubbing a toe was easy enough. The room greeted visitors with a pair of couches and a coffee table filled with chems and comics, carefully arranged to both welcome people into socializing and to keep up his care-free persona but as Charlie ventured in further in she found his armchair next to a bookcase filled with half-damaged books.

Most of them were on history but there were a few books that were pure fiction and she recognized a number of books he had borrowed from her personally. The book currently on the nightstand next to the chair was a collection of poems that she was unfamiliar with. Had she not been as drunk as she was she would've settled for the armchair and cozied down with the book but she felt a hunger that the book wouldn't satisfy. Hidden behind the bookcase, to offer some amount of privacy, was his bed and to her surprise the covers had been neatly tucked in at the edges of the mattress and the pillow had been fluffed and placed neatly at the head of the bed. After traveling with him for a while she had noticed that he was more than just the rumors but just how neat and tidy he truly was made her snort out a giggle.

  
There was a moment of hesitation before she flung herself onto the bed, instantly revelling in the puff of smell that exploded her senses. For someone who smoked almost religiously Hancock managed to smell quite pleasant though she knew that she would enjoy the scent regardless of how well-kept he was. Having a crush didn't exactly shy away from exaggerating features to seem nicer than they were. Still, as she lay on his bed in the dark she wrapped her arms around the pillow, hugging it tight and filling her lungs with the smell of Hancock.

A small voice in the back of her head nagged about how weird she was acting but the alcohol all but taped the mouth shut on the voice and instead egged her on, to roll around on top of the covers like some kind of cat thriving in the sunlight. She hugged the pillow even tighter and could almost imagine that it was him but as quickly as the feeling came it was pushed away. Drunk or not, there were limits to what she could allow herself to feel and happiness was a fickle bitch. Charlie lay on her side, holding the pillow tightly against her and stuffing her nose into the soft fabric. Even now she could feel the embarrasment of her weight, even alone and drunk and trying so hard to satisfy some of her cravings. Even now she couldn't let herself forget what she hated the most about herself.

Guys like him didn't look at girls like her, not really. Sure, he flirted generously with her but with his reputation it was almost expected and she figured that he was only trying to keep her in a good mood. To make her think she wasn't the swampmonster she felt she was. He was a kind man and the way his eyes could make her insides do summersaults was alarming at first but her self-deprication and collected personality never let her enjoy the feeling for very long.

  
She closed her eyes and imagined what she looked like on the bed. Her thick thighs would be the feature she accepted the most on herself, though they were still not quite good enough. The constant walking made the insides of her thighs chafe and she had ruined her fair share of pants with the friction. She had noticed dark red spots on the skin, like bruises that didn't dissipate and the idea of another thing to be selfconscious about made her internally sigh.

  
She thought about the accumulated fat on her stomach that despite the harsh wasteland diet just wouldn't leave her body. She bitterly placed her hands on her abdomen, releasing the pillow,  and attempted to press the tissue into her, flattening the skin as much as she could. She held it for a few seconds, tried to imagine herself as thin but released the pressure of her hands and sighed. Not even in her dreams could she ever imagine herself to look like those old pre-war models that still haunted the billboards.

  
She thought about her breasts and palmed them through the simple tshirt she was wearing. They weren't the worst part of her body and most definitely valuable when it came to getting casual information out of strangers but it was close to impossible to find a proper bra and while she knew it was only natural she loathed how they sagged without support.

  
Charlie let go of the breasts and resumed hugging the pillow. She thought about her neck and the fat gathered under her face and was eternally grateful that atleast it was socially acceptable to wear scarfs that covered most of her face and neck. Her face itself wasn't a disaster; eyes a bit too small but green and gentle and lips a little thin and discolored but gave sweet smiles when the mood was right. If she had a nicely toned neck she figured she wouldn't even look halfbad despite her overall weight. A well-defined jaw to frame her face could've cast an illusion that she was rather pretty.

But alas, her body was her body and despite her physical insecurities she managed to survive quite well in the apocalyptic wasteland for an overweight pre-war collegestudent. One could argue that it was impractical to sneak around cover to cover when she wasn't very agile but going in guns blazing was just as valid of a tactic and just as fruitful. Besides, she had already decided to not pursue the Mayor of Goodneighbor. As the General of the Minutemen she had plenty of things to do and she wouldn't run out of it anytime soon. If there wasn't a settlement that needed defending or rebuilding, there were places that had to be cleared out or strategies to be planned. If by some chance the Minutemen did run out of objectives there was always the railroad, or Nick's agency and Pipers chase for news. Truly, there was no time for romance. 

It didn't mean she couldn't still think about it, however. She gripped the pillow tighter and filled her lungs one last time before she allowed the alcohol and soft bed to lull her to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Her sleep had been dreamless and far too brief when she woke up to hear the door latch open and close. The light in the room was an even and gentle glow and it clicked in her head that it was early in the morning. Slightly disoriented she tried to make sense of her surroundings but the alcohol was still in her system and she was still too tired to really care. There was a calm rythm in his footsteps as he made his way to his bed. She heard the sound of his coat draping off of his shoulders and getting thrown to the couch until the steps halted just after the bookcase. There was silence for a moment and she was suddenly afraid that she had completely fucked everything up, that he was appalled that she was in his room, in his bed, hugging his pillow but when he let out a soft chuckle and spoke in a low whisper she was immediately calm.

  
"Thought it was your birthday, not mine."

She snorted again, as graciously as ever, but remained on the bed. He hadn't told her to get out of his room and if she could spend even a second more in the comfort of his bed she would take it. And hey, if push came to shove she could just blame it on the alcohol.

"Are you aware that this ain't your room?" he asked her gently. He strode over and placed a cool hand on her forehead and she tried to smack it away but the room began spinning as she lifted her head ever so slightly from the mattress.

"M'yeah." she muttered, relaxing back onto the bed.

Hancock paused for a moment before retreating to the end of the bed, two low thuds signaling that his boots were now off and soft steps told her he was walking up behind her.

"Alright, scoot over." he almost whispered. She gently turned her head towards him, asking him without words what he meant.

"It's my bed, I need sleep too. Come on now." He gestured with his hands for her to move over and she reluctantly crept closer to the edge, still holding the pillow in her arms until it was ripped from her embrace.

"Pillows go under your head." he jokingly lectured her and if she wasn't confused as hell she would've thrown him a witty comeback but when he stuffed the pillow under her head and laid down behind her she was at a loss for words.

Suddenly the bed wasn't comfortable at all, she was almost bursting out of her skin and he was too close to her, so close he could almost realize just how hideous she was, so close she felt like she was Icarus and Hancock was the sun who was ready to melt her wings. For a splitsecond she attempted to get up and get out but any movement her nerves tried to unload were stifled when he placed his arm around her, resting it between her stomach and breast, hooking his hand under her body to reel her in like the dumb fish she was. Charlie forgot how to breathe and her limbs felt like marble. Hancock seemed to notice, shifting uneasily behind her.

"This okay?"

She could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her head and her nerves were all over the place like snow in a blizzard. Had she drunk so much she was imagining things involuntarily? Maybe she was still asleep. She had to be. Occasional flirts aside, Hancock always kept a distance and very rarely touched her. She had to still be asleep. Yeah. This was just an elaborate dream. And if it wasn't, it was the best thing to happen to her in a long while.

"This is great." she said before wrapping his arm tighter around her, nestling her hand in under her body next to his. She became more aware of her stomach when it shifted from their combined pressure and her breasts moved up but if this was only a dream then Hancock wouldn't really know and she had the freedom to embarrass herself. It was odd how real it felt but maybe that's what being drunk was like. Hancock seemed to relax behind her, shifting his free arm to rest under the pillow before she began to drift away again, this time not as much because she was relaxed but because if she was dreaming she was already asleep, right? Hancocks rhytmic breathing behind her and the steady huffs of hot hair that made a few loose hairs dance at the back of her head calmed her and within minutes she was fast asleep again.  

 

* * *

 

Hancock woke up earlier than he expected and he was surprised to find that Charlie had yet to sneak away. During the night they had tossed and turned until Hancock had ended up on his back with her head on his chest, soft hair covering her beautiful face and an arm slung across his torso. When he had returned to his house after helping Cait back to her own (irish or not, no one could drink like Hancock) he had been content to just drop to his bed and fall asleep. Instead the woman of his dreams had occupied it, gripping his pillow tightly to her chest. He could count all the good things in his life that he had done well on one hand but to count all his misshaps he'd have to count the grass on the ground and yet whichever gods still reigned had blessed him with a woman like that to keep his company.

He knew he was crossing a few boundaries when he chose to lie down next to her and he was definitely taking advantage of the situation but he was a flawed man, he reasoned, and he would never do anything she objected to. He fell asleep with a goddess next to him, a goddess with eyes that never judged a soul for living and lips that he spent far too much time imagining what they would feel like against his own.

Hancock had grown up in a shitshow of a wasteland and had accepted that life was hard and unfair but when Charlie had arrived to the future she had cast one glance at the hardship and decided that enough was enough. The woman was a hurricane, tearing through the land to fix all the shit that was wrong and she did it with sweat on her skin, blood on her boots and a smile on her face. Didn't hurt that she had thighs that could kill a man if he wasn't careful and if he could ever choose a way to die, that would be it.

  
He felt bad when those thoughts surfaced. She deserved to be more than an occasional fantasy though even as he knew that, it was still hard to not think about being the friction rubbing between her thighs when she walked infront of him. Or how she would completely fill his embrace when he held her, being the anchor keeping him grounded so that he didn't ascend to heaven as the luckiest bastard alive. She was the gin to his jam or however the hell the saying went.

He knew she hated the way she looked, he noticed it by the way she carried herself just like he had when he had first turned into a ghoul. It was obvious in the way she first blushed at a compliment but then stiffened up, refusing to believe a single word even though he would gladly worship the dirt she stepped on. Being a ghoul, however, he could understand her feelings. Didn't mean he had to accept it, though.

It was early noon and she was fast asleep on his chest. His marred fingers kept gently stroking the hair back from her face and he would gladly spend the rest of the day, rest of his damn life if he could, in the bed with her resting next to him. He wondered what her reaction would be when waking up. If the far-too-close contact with a ghoul would freak her out or if she would be okay with it like the glances she often gave him when she thought he didn't notice told him she would.

He had made it a rule to never touch her more than he needed, fearing that one day she would recoil and any hope he had collected in his heart would evaporate at the blink of an eye. Sometimes you had to take a risk, however, something he had learned very intimately as the mayor of Goodneighbor and if last night had been a gamble he had already put everything he had up for stake. His fingers left her hair and he settled his arm around her shoulders, pressing her gently closer to him as he gave a content sigh and closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, far too brief for his liking, he felt her stirring awake. Charlie took a deep breath before she began to move her head, slowly blinking her eyes open. Her body tensed up when she realized where she was and he held his breath. It was an expected reaction but nervwrecking all the same. She slowly shifted her face towards him, meeting his gaze with her emerald eyes and he shot her a smile that usually made girls weak in the knees.

"Mornin', sunshine."

All cards on the table, winner takes it all. Her eyes were wide and he could almost hear her brain working overtime to get on top of the situation. Would she regret stumbling into his house while drunk off her ass or would she accept the advancement their relationship would inevitably take? Would Hancock spend the day giddy and obnoxiously happy or would he have to spend the day alone, recuperating his emotions? The tension grew until it burst like a bubble when her soft voice danced from her smile to his ear.  

"Mornin', handsome."  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So I'm fat and lately I've been feeling superbad about it, thinking not even fictional characters (that I can literally control) would like me so I tried to do something body positive. I personally feel like this is very stiff and vague, but I'm trying.  
> Constructive criticism on the actual writing, such as the words and sentence building, is very appriciated. English isn't my first language so I don't always know if something doesn't make sense. Thank you for reading!
> 
> my tumblr; tyvian-whaler.tumblr.com


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